


Old Valeria And New

by Bam4Me



Series: Reincarnate [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, No Jon/Ygritte, Surprise The Free Folk have Valerian Blood, free folk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: Jon Snow was a wonder to those who live Beyond, and those who live Beyond are a wonder to Jon Snow.





	Old Valeria And New

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this one: a ship once ended up in Beyond, thousands and thousands of years ago, before Old Valeria's destruction, and they all stayed in the North, so actually, Valerian blood is very prominent in the North, giving them magic, as well as having passed down lots of spells and stuff, and this is why there are so many of them who survived.
> 
> Tormund's daughters ended up adorable and I want to snuggle Daia and give her a cookie, I feel like she would be a good snuggle buddy.
> 
> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com

When Jon first met the Free Folk above the Wall -and became their prisoner- it was a little hard, for him to realize that he was going to break his oaths to the Night’s Watch.

 

The Free Folk weren’t evil, they were no more different from the people in the North, than the Unsullied in Slaver’s Bay were to their masters.

 

It was a hard decision at first… for about fifteen seconds before Daenerys hit Jon on the back of the head and told him to grow up.

 

“Jon, look at me right now, this is not a  _ fun _ decision, this is a Targaryen decision, and you will make it. Do not be a Stark in this moment unless it is to take charge, be a Targaryen and conquer. You are just as much a part of me as I am of you, I know you have this in you.”

 

Jon looked up at her with wide eyes. They were sitting in a heated tent above the Wall. Daenerys had wanted to see the place where Jon had come to, and so they awoke that night in the middle of an empty camp Beyond the Wall. Daenerys had immediately declared it too cold to live in, and told him he needed to leave before he  _ died _ . Jon had laughed at her for a moment before he realized she was honestly serious.

 

Then he laughed harder.

 

Upon showing her the wonders of first coming to the Free Folk camp through his memories, he was at least glad to realize he wasn’t the only one shocked at seeing honest to god  _ giants _ within the camp. Luckily, Daenerys was able to stare at them for longer than he had without angering them through the memory.

 

He thinks he might have had that same look on his own face the day Daenerys first showed him her baby dragons.

 

_ “Jon, this one will be yours, when she’s big enough to ride.” _

 

_ Jon’s eyes were big, reaching out to touch the memory of the little green dragon, beautiful and shining black in the light. “What’s her name?” _

 

_ “Rhaegal. I don’t know why, but I feel she’s yours. One day, she’ll be big enough to fly to you, wherever you are, and she’ll protect you and keep you safe till you can come to me.” _

 

_ Jon was shocked, petting down her soft scaled side, though she barely reacted, only a memory. He quite liked her. His own dragon. _

 

_ He wished he had a direwolf to give to Daenerys. _

 

They sat in a tent now, sitting by a large fire that probably would have burnt the tent down if they had been in the waking world, but they’ve long since learned that they get what they want while sleeping. And often, only while sleeping.

 

Daenerys had hit Jon on the back of the head when he’d frowned at the idea of helping the Free Folk. “Don’t look like that, Jon, you cannot make this decision so lightly. They might not be  _ slaves _ , but that doesn’t mean they aren’t owed the same reparations as them. They’ve been forced to live on a land they fear, fighting for food and space, and running from an enemy that raises their dead to make more of them. Jon, they are just as oppressed, and if you walk away from them right now, I will never forgive it.”

 

She was lying, and they both knew it. He could probably burn cities, and she would find a way to forgive him, if only for the love she had for him. But still, if they didn’t hold each other to higher standards, no one else would.

 

Jon sighed, knowing she was right. She almost always was. It was stupidly annoying.

 

“I don’t know how to get them below the Wall. If I had ships, I could take them myself, but I don’t. The North and South are in a war right now, and it’s not going well. I don’t know what to do.”

 

Daenerys thought about that one before sighing herself. “I can think of a few ways. One would be to fly over the Wall, but three baby dragons cannot carry a hundred thousand people, or you could blow up part of the Wall, but then what would stop the Walkers from following them through it. I think you’re going to have to take control of Castle Black and open the gates for them.”

 

Jon looked down at his feet, a grumpy look on his face now. He whined the next sentence out, though he would never admit it. Daenerys knew him better than she knew herself. “I don’t know how to do that either.”

 

She looked away from him, before getting a sad look on her face. “Jeor Mormont is dead,” and that had been hard to tell Jorah, who had been more devastated at that than being banned from Westeros, “and they’ve not yet chosen a new commander, it will be hard to prove yourself, but I’m sure we can find a way to make it happen. I find that great shows of power tend to lead people into following you.”

 

Jon snorted. “Well, I don’t have three dragons to be powerful, nor am I resistant to fire. I’m not sure what big show of power I could give them.”

 

Daenerys shrugged, snuggling down into a set of furs she’d stolen from the tent they were in. It was the biggest tent in the camp, so Jon assumed it was Mance’s, but it’s not like this was real. “You may not be able to touch fire without being burnt, but I think you might be resistant to ice.”

 

Jon scoffed. “Resistant to ice, ice is a slow killer, Dany, you lose limbs before you lose your life. I could never show power by resisting the cold. It helps me out, I’ll admit that, but it could never move me to power.”

 

She shrugged. “You could lead a mutiny.”

 

Jon’s nose wrinkled up. “Who would want to mutiny against the Night’s Watch just to let a hundred thousand Free Folk through the gates? Me, obviously, but I think that’s about it.”

 

She sighed then. “Jon, you might have to attack the castle from the other side, get enough Free Folk on the other side to mount an attack on them. You said Castle Black doesn’t have many defences from the other side.”

 

Jon shook his head, looking sad. “No, it doesn’t. It’s called Castle, but it’s one of the few castles along the Wall that aren’t actual castles. It’s a grouping of barracks and buildings above ground with walls enough to guard from raiders coming in, but it’s all open buildings. That might be the only option, but I’ll talk it over with Mance tomorrow. I need to make sure he knows I’m on their side. I’ll probably have to tell them about you. As far as I can tell, they’re actually almost as magically adept as the people of Old Valeria were. Not as smart, but without buildings and libraries to store knowledge, it makes sense that they would be held back.”

 

She nodded, looking amazed. Jon thought it made sense. They both knew how the Valerians ended. “Imagine being so smart you create a plague on your people. These people are smart, Dany, they know the lay of the land, and they have magic. Maybe that’s why they outlasted Valeria so long. Either that, or sheer stubbornness. I think it might be that one.”

 

***

 

The next morning, Jon requested a meeting with Mance Rayder. His ‘jailers’ Tormund -a man bigger than even Ned Stark had been, and Jon didn’t often find men bigger than his father had been- and Ygritte -a crude, but funny girl, who smiled as easily as breathing and constantly told him he knew nothing, in a way that reminded him of Daenerys,- had looked at each other in amusement, before dragging him off to Mance’s tent.

 

His hands were no longer bound, but any attempt at getting a weapon from either of them had been thwarted over and over. His only saving grace was knowing that Tormund had made Ygritte set aside his stolen Valerian steel sword and stop taunting him with it. 

 

“The little crow looks like he’ll throw a fit, and you know Mance says we want this one alive. If he starts a fight, we can’t promise to keep him alive.”

 

Jon followed after Tormund with Ygritte still poking at his back behind him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would Mance want me alive?”

 

“Maybe he thinks a little lord like you would make a good hostage.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes at Ygritte as she pushed him into a tent. “As if. I’m neither a lord, nor would a hostage do the Free folk any good.”

 

“Now now, that would be true, if your daddy wasn’t the warden of the North.”

 

Jon paused, turning to stare at the man in the tent behind a table where he had been previously having a meeting with another man, who quietly excused himself. Tormund and Ygritte both gave Jon a look like he’d lied to them. Jon’s voice almost broke when he replied to the man who was still so familiar, but Jon couldn’t place where from.

 

“My father is dead. The king died, and his son took my father’s head.”

 

Mance Rayder frowned at Jon, motioning for him to sit. Jon did with a frown, still confused on why he  _ knew _ this man. “Your father was alive less than two years ago from what I remember, why did the new king take his head.”

 

Jon shrugged. “The new king… the bastard king, I think. He wasn’t the king’s son, he was born of the queen and her twin brother. He claimed my father wanted the crown for his own when he tried to tell others that Geoffry wasn’t the heir to the crown, so they killed him to shut him up.”

 

Mance sighed. “All you southroners are so dramatic. One king dies, his son takes his place, even when the son obviously isn’t a good ruler either.”

 

Jon shrugged. “It’s stupid. Kings and queens rarely have to prove themselves, then the time comes to show their might, none of them have it.”

 

Mance snorted, leaning back in his seat. “It seems, I’m not the only crow who grew a brain. Why did you join the Night’s Watch? You were the son of a lord, you could have had a home and family by now, instead you chose to be celibate and cold for the rest of your damn life.”

 

Jon thought carefully about that, before deciding it wasn’t important. It wasnt important in this moment, because if he thought about that, he might realize Mance was right. He could have gone across the Narrow Sea to Daenerys but he chose desolate cold instead. Well, now he knew who Mance Rayder was, the brother who had abandoned them, but he still had no idea where he knew the face from. “How do I know your face?”

 

Mance leaned in, a hard set to his jaw. “I visited your home in Winterfell, to see that king of yours. Rather disappointing actually, he was a fat man, would drink himself stupid and whore himself out right in front of his wife.”

 

Jon nodded. “He wasn’t a good king, but he was my father’s friend, and that got them both killed in the end, I suppose. Bad kings have a tendency to get killed in King’s Landing.”

 

“Why did you come to the Wall?”

 

Jon shrugged. “I was recently told that cold could never kill me. That I could stand in the middle of a blizzard and survive Beyond. Do you think I can?”

 

Jon would have kicked his own ass if he could. Daenerys always told him he became insufferably annoying when he didn’t want to talk about something, and he was starting to agree with her.

 

Mance looked at him like he might be a few bits short, and Jon could hear Ygritte snickering behind them. “You  _ want _ to live here?”

 

Jon scoffed, shaking his head. “No, of course not. What idiot would  _ want _ to live in a barren waste land? I may be a bit strange, but I’m not suicidal.” He looked Mance right in the eye. “No one deserves to live here, forced or not, running from your lives from Walkers as if it’s what you deserve.  _ All _ of us should be below the Wall.”

 

Mance didn’t believe him, though Jon didn’t think it would be that easy anyways. “How do you propose we get below the Wall then?”

 

Jon shrugged, feeling a little dumb. “I don’t know, but if you kill me now, we won’t find out, now will we?”

 

Mance sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before looking over at Tormund and Ygritte, who were both parts amused and confused. “Get this idiot out of my tent before I decide he’s not worth it.”

 

When they left, Tormund turned to look at him with an almost pitying look. “What the hell was that?”

 

_ I got nervous _ , he didn’t want to say. Jon shrugged again. “Not really sure, halfway through I got confused and just wanted to leave. It worked, didn’t it?”

 

Tormund looked like he was asking for patience, and Jon didn’t really blame him. He couldn’t help it though, he got nervous and  _ panicked _ , and panicking means trying to run away like a coward. He had that habit. He watched a young boy pass them with what looked like a carrot, and his mind boggled. “Where do you guys grow food? I haven’t seen any glass houses here? I thought hunting was the only option this far North.”

 

Ygritte made a funny noise. “Glass houses?”

 

Jon nodded. “It’s where you grow food when it’s so cold it snows? You make a room out of glass, and keep it warm with steam, and grow fruit and vegetables there.”

 

Tormund and Ygritte looked at each other for a minute, as if deciphering his words, before Tormund nodded to him. “Come, you’ll meet my daughters. They’ll explain. This is their craft, not mine.”

 

Ygritte left them there, saying something about not liking steam, and went in the other direction. Tormund helped Jon climb up onto the top of one of the hot spring caves, and Jon was surprised to see that it was like there was another camp entirely up here.

 

They were barely up at the front of the plateau for a minute, when a little girl with blonde hair and purple eyes came towards them excitedly. Jon was taken aback by her eyes and hair. He’s never met another blonde haired purple eyed person other than Daenerys, and he didn’t think that was a trait found outside of Old Valeria. At least, not until now.

 

“Papa!”

 

Tormund swept the little girl into his arms with a flourish pressing a kiss to her pale cheek. She had almost no natural colour to her, like Daenerys. Jon had natural colour to him, from his father. Not enough to be anything but white, but so much more than the unnatural white sheen of Daenerys’s skin. Daenerys’s skin, which this little girl shared with her.

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

Tormund came a little closer with the girl in his arms, and here Jon could see that she had different eyes than his dreammate, purple, but darker than Daenerys’s were. Wider too, Her hair was a little darker than Daenerys’s platinum. “She’s Valerian.”

 

The little girl -she was probably seven or so, and wrapped in white furs- smiled at Jon. “He knows what I am. Why does he know? He’s wearing the wrong colours to be so smart.”

 

Tormund grinned behind her, obviously enamoured with his small child. “That’s right, not many crows are all that bright, but even Mance says he’s smart. Even if he might not think so anymore.”

 

Jon sighed. “My… a… I don’t know how to say it.”

 

Tormund was giving Jon that confused look again, and Jon honestly didn’t know what to say. No one but Ned had ever believed that Jon and Daenerys could see each other in their dreams. His own siblings whispered that his mind had taken him young, and was playing tricks. The Lady Catelyn called him pitious, and used it as an excuse to call her husband a good man, for taking a broken child as his own and raising him to give him a chance.

 

Jon was no stranger to how those around him treated him because of a perceived doubt of his mind, and he was loath to give Tormund the same reason to doubt him. Tormund had never treated him as anything but Mance’s captive, and a dangerous crow, for what reason did he have to doubt Jon’s mind?

 

Jon didn’t want them to treat him like that.

 

“Is it because of the  _ other _ in your head?”

 

Jon turned to look behind him, and sure enough, there was another little girl, this one with red hair, and the same round purple eyes. This must be the other daughter.

 

“The  _ other _ in my head?”

 

She shrugged, looking confused in the way of children who knew things, but weren’t sure how to explain it. Jon had probably looked like for his entire childhood. “The other? They’re there, I know it, but I’m not a mind adept yet, I don’t know what that means.”

 

Jon turned back to Tormund with big eyes. “How are they Valarian? How is their magic possible, Old Valeria was lost so so long ago.”

 

Tormund shrugged. “Before they were lost, I guess, a ship landed here. Thousands of years ago, so I’m not sure how or where. I just know, there were so many of them on the ship, that their blood is thick in the Free people’s veins. We all have at least some of it. Their mother had so much of it, her hair is white, and she can make fire. Daia can make fire too. Betha is learning to become one of the mind healers.”

 

Tormund swung the girl back down to the ground, and Betha came over to hug their father as well. Daia came over and grabbed Jon’s hand, starting to tug him further onto the plateau. “Come see my flowers. They just bloomed today.”

 

Jon looked back at Tormund with wide eyes as the little girl -the  _ strong _ little girl- started dragging him off by the hand. Her hands were hot, like fire itself was in her fingers. Tormund just looked amused though, and Jon turned back to give the girl his attention.

 

There were pockets of steam coming up from the plateau around them, and in some places, it was hotter than the rest, and at one point, they walked past a gust of steam so hot Jon could almost feel himself recoiling at the burn of it, though the little girl walked right through it, making Jon watch her in shock, as she showed the same resistance to the burn as Daenerys had always done.

 

They ended up next to a bed of snow, and in that snow, growing out of it, were single blue winter roses, growing on strong stems with thick petals.

 

“Mama says if I can grow single roses, I can try bushes next.”

 

Jon knelt down next to the girl, reaching out to place one hand on the snow at the base of it. It was cold, though it didn’t melt at his touch, even though the air around them was hot from steam. “Why are they growing in snow?”

 

She looked at him for a moment like he was an idiot. “There’s nothing but snow here. We have to raise the seeds to grow in the snow, or we won’t have any crops.”

 

Jon nodded, feeling numb. “Why blue? I thought roses were red?”

 

She smiled now, reaching out to touch the pretty petals. “I just coloured them now while we were walking. I think you would look pretty with blue flowers in your hair.”

 

Jon didn’t know why she felt that, but he rather thought black hair like his would look beautiful with blue roses in them himself.

 

***

 

Tormund’s daughters were of the blood of Old Valeria, a place thought lost for so long. He almost couldn’t wait to tell Daenerys that her people were still alive in the world, but he also knew it would bring her anger. It brought him anger as well.

 

Tormund had at least some of the same blood in him, though obviously not as much as them, and Jon found out that their mother was the leader of the peoples who lived on the plateau. It seems, most Valerian people liked the heat. They weren’t married, not even together. They simply wanted children, and they had them.

 

This woman Tormund had brought him to, had green eyes and grey hair until she had laid a hand on his arm. Jon jerked back, suddenly seeing his own eyes and hair looking back at him, and then they changed once more, suddenly staring at Daenerys’s eyes and hair. Even Tormund seemed confused, but only at the second change, not the first.

 

“You have a dragon living inside of you, young crow. She’s stronger than any of us can imagine, and she has an army bigger than any of us have seen- no. She  _ will _ have an army bigger than any of us have seen.”

 

Jon stared at her with wide eyes, trying to think of an eloquent reply to that. What came out sounded sort of like a humming buzzing noise. It sounded alarmed and alarming. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Oh.”

 

Well, at least that one was a word.

 

“Is that how he can help us all get below the Wall, then? Her army?”

 

The mind adept shook her head, sitting down in front of them at the fire with her own hair and eyes again. Jon was half hiding behind Tormund from the other side of the fire, and belatedly realized he was holding Tormund’s arm so tight he was probably cutting off circulation. “No. He said he would get us below the Wall, and he will. He doesn’t need her army to achieve that. Her army will help us defeat the Walkers.”

 

Jon was sitting across from her, though he faced Tormund, sitting almost entirely sideways on the perch, and he glanced over at the woman -the woman who he might be slightly terrified of now, for all the little old lady she looked like now- and blanched, looking back at Tormund. “Daenerys, you saw Daenerys?”

 

She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that is her name, isn’t it? She’s a sweet little thing, to those she’s not angry with, I guess. How long have you lived with her in your mind?”

 

“Since I was born, I think.”

 

“As makes sense, your souls cannot exist without the other’s touch, for when they split from one, it was painful to both of you.”

 

“Split?”

 

She nodded. “Your soul was once one, and now that is not true. You exist as different people, longing to be one whole once more. It will never happen, unfortunately. Water cannot flow the same way twice. But you long to be near, and she’ll live with you always.”

 

It both hurt, and made him feel better, and when he looked over at Tormund, the halfgiant was watching him curiously. Jon thought he looked a little amused.

 

***

 

Tormund had asked Jon to share his furs with him that night, and Jon accepted, grateful that he wouldn’t be guarded over like a criminal through the night at his side.

 

When Tormund came into his tent that night, Jon was already asleep in the soft blankets, and Tormund shrugged, getting in with him. He assumed Jon must be tired. Jon slept like he was dead to the world, or even as though he was entering another altogether. Tormund found his quiet peacefulness to be nice, to lay near.

 

They rarely stopped sleeping together for four years until the Free Folk had been let through below the Wall.

**Author's Note:**

> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com


End file.
